


Majesty

by GammilyIsMe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Anastasia Fusion, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Female Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 21:26:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16941021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GammilyIsMe/pseuds/GammilyIsMe
Summary: Hariel Peverell-Potter died the same night as the rest of her family, gone up in flames like the phoenixes of yore.A girl woke up alone, covered in blood and ash. With no memory of her past or how she got there, she is given a name, Harry, and is determined to find out why her blood sings at the idea of family.





	Majesty

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters you see. All rights belong to the respective owners and I am making no money off of this.

 

Little Princess Hariel Potter-Peverell was enjoying life. She was in her rooms, preparing herself for the final feast of Samhain. The past week had been the most fun she had had in ages as everyone celebrated the ground they walked on and the successful year’s harvest. The final day was dedicated to the Need-Fire, which had been burning all week. Everyone would gather around the large bonfire set in the center of the square and light a stick of fir. The hard part was to not let it burn out as you lit as many candles as you could in that time. The Need-Fire symbolized the end of the harvest and the beginning of the need to light the hearths that winter.

The Need-Fire itself was a necessary part of the celebrations. Every year, it brought magick back into the earth and allowed the land to heal as the fields went barren in the winter. Once it burned out, the ashes were spread across the land, banishing illnesses and keeping violent predators away from livestock. The Need-Fire was to thank the land for all of its hard work and for the people to gather their life forces and direct it back into the earth, to keep the healthy cycle continuing. 

Hariel stepped out of her room and into the hall and gasped as she felt the magick move over her skin and give her energy. The wards surrounding her room kept most of the heady magick at bay, so the intense feeling filled her up until she felt like she was floating. She giggled and skipped to the main hall. The castle was decorated with flowers from all across the realm. Fragrant thyme and scented stammerwart lined the halls, making everything smell as fresh as spring. Fire flowers sat in pots, brought inside from the gardens to decorate. Trees were transplanted into the very stone of the halls, to allow them to soak up the magick that flowed through the ley lines built into the castle. A few fairies fluttered about the indoor gardens and dryads came with their trees as the celebration lasted.

The main hall, where the feasts were taking place, was spared no expense. Guests from nearby villages brought offerings to please Magick herself and She was pleased. The faint scent of lightning traveled around the room at the excessive use of magic.

She turned around to see her guards following her and laughed when their normally stoic faces graced her with matching smiles. At the main hall, the main tables were set up on the edges of the room. Hariel left her minders and cleverly avoided the dancing couples as the meandered around, simply enjoying the atmosphere.

Narrow braziers surrounding each of the six ivory columns lit up most of the throne hall and radiated a soft warmth across the hall. Banners hung from the ceiling, marking each of the houses that had sworn fealty to the crown. Between each banner hung a lantern, most of which had already been lit by lucky festival-goers.  Humble, stained glass windows were framed by veils colored the same viridian as the banners. Two ceremonious thrones of teak sat amidst two large statues and were adjoined by four almost identical seats for the royal highness' family members.

Hariel searched the room before scampering off and approaching her target. She interrupted her older brother Charlus, who was dancing with Elerie Lock. Elerie laughed as she made way for the young princess and curtsied. Charlus gave her a formal bow before picking Hariel up and swinging her around in the air. Her hair, all made up by her handmaid, had started to stick up in all directions like she had been struck by lightning. Charlus’ dark hair was slicked back and didn't get all messy like Hariel’s and he gave her a teasing smile. Hariel giggled once again smoothed her hair down and Charlus gave her an odd look.

She gave Charlus a wide smile as she explained. “It’s the magicks! I feel like I can feel _everything_!” Her eyes sparkled in a way that had both nothing and everything to do with the ambient magick in the air and the sheer delight that was exuding from everyone. 

“Of course you can, little flower. The magick is strong within you. We could all tell the first time you froze the pond in the middle of summer to ice skate!” Hariel had been four at the time of said incident, and the lake remembered her for it, always managing to be extremely cold no matter the time of year whenever she went in.

“That wasn’t my fault!” Hariel explained, a small pout forming on her delicate face. Now nine, Hariel still lacked control of her magick, which was to be expected of someone so young.

“Don’t I know it,” laughed Charlus. They continued dancing in the hall until Hariel spotted Dorothea, Charlus’s twin sister. Like Charlus, Dorothea had their father’s coloring with long dark hair and hazel eyes. Her hair had somehow managed to stay within its hairstyle, each curl perfectly formed. Hariel reached forward and twirled it around, managing to make it frizzy before letting out a loud laugh. Dorothea, seeing the hair, smiled indulgently and simply spun  it back around her own finger, therefore removing any damage that her younger sister may have caused.

* * *

 

She had left the feast happy, but feeling off. Her older sister, Dorothea, said maybe it was the fairy wine that was getting to her. Her mother gave Dory a sharp look at the thought of her having too much of the fairy wine, but sent both daughters to bed regardless.

Queen Lily kissed Hariel’s head and said goodnight.

“I’ll see you in the morning, yes?”

“Yes mama,” replied Hariel, excited at the thought of breakfast after a long night of dancing.

“Goodnight, little flower. I love you.” And Queen Lily quietly closed the door behind her.

Hariel felt the magick stirring inside her, wanting to be let out and _be_ something. She remembered the few rudimentary lessons she had received in controlling her magick when it got too strong and tried to squash it down. Her stomach felt like the tree fairies were flying around and her blood sang through her veins. She untangled herself from her covers and rushed over to the window, desperate to see something. The moon was full in the sky above, which according to her lessons was either a sign that the spirits were going to be restless, or that there would be a storm.

She stared at the moon and the constellations her father had taught her about. Baoef, the last dragon queen, had been killed by hunters and was promised to live forevermore in the sky. Hariel looked up to the dots that had once been a queen and imagined how fierce she must have been in life. She toyed with the ends of her long auburn hair, the same color as her mother’s, as she thought if she would ever end up as a constellation in the sky. Surely, she would end up doing something other that sit around in the castle her entire life. Feeling restless, Hariel left her cushioned window seat and headed to bed. She picked up a book left on her nightstand and began to read. If the magicks would not let her sleep, then she would not sleep.

After many chapters, she was startled by the sounds. They were indistinct but loud in a way that the party before had not been. Hariel’s entire body felt them as her hands shook with energy. She took a deep breath and held it in with puffed cheeks, desperately wishing to See what was going on.

It was madness. The palace was under siege, or attack, but Hariel didn't know. Soldiers were running in and shouting, and the clashing of metal upon metal as swords clanged and hurt her ears. Hariel sat up in bed, breathing heavily, her eyes glowing a vivid green. She knew what to do if this ever happened. She quietly got out of bed and made it a little less sloppy, as if she had left long before. Trying not to panic, she locked her doors and scanned the room for somewhere to hide. Fine porcelain fell from the shelves on her walls and shattered on the finely made carpet as soldiers loudly banged on her door. Hariel didn't know if they were her guards or if they were the men invading, but she wouldn’t open it. They wouldn’t be able to undo the protective magicks on the door, thought Hariel. They surely wouldn’t. A window broke and Hariel screamed before muffling the sound with her hand. She hid under her bed, dressed in her favorite pair of pajamas. Suddenly, the door crashed open, sending splinters of wood in every direction. Hariel stifled another scream that ached to come out of her mouth.

She couldn’t see any of their faces. Only the boots of the soldiers as they scoured the room. Looking for her. They ripped open her wardrobe, shoving her dresses onto the ground without a thought. There were more screams of pain and anger outside of her door and she refused to cry. A man came charging into the room with a sword drawn at the ready, but he was no match for the soldiers already there. He was slain as if he was an afterthought, the blood from his body seeping out and pooling on the floor right next to her dresses. Hariel tried not to focus on his blood ( _redredred)_ as it slowly cooled on her dresses across the room. She buried her head into her arms and tried to block everything out, wishing that her magick would manifest fully and save her.

An arm reached out under the bed and grabbed one of her legs. She screamed, kicking off her attacker as they dragged her on the floor through the puddle of the man’s blood. It was still warm as it seeped through the back her nightgown and onto her skin. She struggled as the men holding her pulled her to her feet. She fought them off, she really did, screaming and kicking and clawing and trying to bite her way to freedom. None of it helped as they grabbed her hands and held a sword to her throat. She stopped moving once she felt the cool sharpness of it touch her skin.

“Not another word, Princess, or I’ll slit your pretty little throat right here.” Hariel nodded in acquiescence. There were tears on her cheeks, but fear prevented her from wiping them away.

Charlus always told her that if someone was being mean to her then she shouldn’t cry. _”You are Princess Hariel Lily Potter, daughter of King Charlus Potter Peverell, third in line to the throne of Albion. You shouldn't waste your tears on them.”_ But these men were probably going to kill her, not just talk behind her back.

With the sword to her throat, the men led her away from the safety of her room and through the halls of the palace. Hariel tried to stop her tears, to not show any more signs of weakness. But there were so many people lying on the ground. They were all silent, like her. The sounds of fighting sounded so far away right then. Her handmaids were the first bodies she saw, casually discarded and dresses stained with blood, just like the ones on her floor. Her favorite kitchen boy was next, but he was still alive, trying to live. His eyes were wide and breaths labored as he slowly succumbed to the wound on his stomach. He froze when he saw the guard but started to struggle once he saw her in the middle of the group. The soldiers laughed and then struck him again. He grunted and Hariel wanted to throw up at the sound of the squelch the metal made as it passed through his skin. Her tears had dried and now she only stared in horror, watching. Her body started shaking and the sword at her throat nicked skin. She held the boy’s gaze as he died.

The soldiers pushed her forward and then Hariel realized that the path they were taking lead to the throne room. The large wooden doors were closed, which made the entire situation seem that more unreal. Those doors were never supposed to be closed. They were supposed to symbolize the connection that the king had with the rest of the kingdom, letting every grievance be heard and tended to. The sturdy doors slowly creaked open.

When they passed into the throne room, Hariel finally saw the rest of her family. Charlus and Dorothea were still wearing their clothes from the ball. They were holding each other tightly, with little Orion in his nightclothes in the middle of them. Her father was kneeling next to her mother with three swords pointed at him. The soldier with the sword to her throat removed it and shoved her forward and she rushed to her parents. One of the men stopped her with a menacing look and it took everything Hariel had to not start crying again. A nod from her father made her slowly step back, obeying the man’s orders. Step by heavy step, Hariel joined her siblings. The doors closed with a loud slam, making Hariel’s shoulders flinch.

Her first instinct was to hug Charlus, her older brother, her protector. Charlus, who looked like a carbon copy of her father. Charlus, whose brown eyes had the same steely glint to them as her father’s had when he looked at the soldiers. He embraced her tightly, whispering reassurances into her hair. Hariel buried her face into her chest and tried to convince herself that this was just another nightmare, that Charlus was by her bedside comforting her after she woke up screaming. The sticky wetness of the blood on her body ruined the illusion. She tried to ignore it and then looked upon her sister.

“What’s going on,” Hariel whispered. She hoped her voice didn't sound as scared as she felt, but she knew that it was.

“I don’t know,” Charlus replied, voice cracking. He had just turned 16 and it was easy to forget that he wasn’t that much older than her. Hariel let go and quickly embraced her older sister. Dorothea ran her fingers through Hariel’s red hair and tried to calm her down. The action calmed them both slightly, but there was no way to fix what was happening. Hariel had seen the bodies of the guards as they walked through.

“They’re all dead,” Hariel whispered again. Dorothea stiffened at the words before slowly nodding.

“Yes, they are.” She didn't believe in false platitudes, never had. Dory had always been serious, only joking whenever Charlus managed to get her caught up in one of his schemes.

“There are wards,” Dorothea replied quietly, speaking directly into Hariel’s ear. 

“We couldn’t use our magick.” The words she didn't say were loud and clear to Hariel. _We_ couldn’t. But _they_ could. Whoever _they_ were, Hariel didn't know. Right now, they wore simple body armor with no distinguishing characteristics. They wore no sigil to mark them or a symbol to call them sellswords.

“Who-” Hariel started, but flinched when the doors opened once again. Nobody spoke as footsteps echoed throughout the hall.

Loud clapping startled Hariel and she picked her head up to look at who had walked in.

Lord Thomas Gaunt.

He was handsome, with fair features and aristocratic cheekbones. But the effect was ruined by his cold, calculating eyes that glowed red in the firelight. It was like he was a demon.

“I was beginning to think that this wouldn’t work. But it looks like we have the entire family here, don’t we.” Hariel refused to look away from the man who had ruined her life. 

Lord Gaunt made a motion with his head to one of the soldiers at the door and more footsteps were heard as they echoed throughout the room.

“It was all thanks to my friend, Peter Pettigrew.” Hariel gasped. Uncle Peter? It couldn’t be! He stood as he looked at the party, tall and blonde and unafraid. Hariel looked upon one of her favorite uncles and whispered a small _no_. Dorothea hugged Hariel tighter into her body as multiple pairs of eyes landed upon them.

Lord Gaunt looked at Hariel, the only member of the family to draw attention to themselves. A wide smile, all sharp edges and broken glass, formed on his face. “Your dearest _Uncle Peter_ gladly helped me set this all up. The protections of the castle, the passageways, the formation of the guards. It was almost too easy.”

James spoke up, his fear not showing in his voice. “How could you? We trusted you!” Anger was written in his features as he held onto Lily, trying to hide little Orion in her skirts.

Peter stared blankly at James, unimpressed by his words of passion. “It was time for new leadership,” he replied stiffly. As if he hadn’t just danced with her, with all of them, earlier that night at the festival. As if she hadn’t spent her entire life adoring him and his presents. 

“Sirius and Remus? Did you kill them too, you fucking traitor!” James got up, as if he was going to strike Peter in the face, but a sword whipping in front of him halted his movements.

“Such language! Think of the children,” said Tom Riddle snidely. “Black and Lupin were spared due to their natural Dark natures. I couldn’t kill the Black heir and Greyback would hate it if I killed his second. They’ll live and they will not be harmed as long as they cooperate.” James suddenly fell down as if he was a puppet whose strings had been cut. 

He coughed and a glob of blood dribbled out of his mouth. He slowly moved his hand to re-cover the wound in his stomach but it never reached it. Her father lay alone on the floor, his blood pooling out slowly. 

“The King is dead. Long live the King,” taunted Lord Gaunt as he watched the proceedings. Hariel watched as her mother screamed. She felt frozen still as little Orion rushed to his father.

“No!” Lily screamed as Orion was cruelly cut down by a soldier right in front of them.

Lily stood up and tried to fight back with a hand knife she had secreted in her boot, but then joined her son and husband in death. The soldiers turned on the three remaining Potters. The two sisters, still clutching each other watched as Charlus’ throat was slit. His blood pooled on the ground, slowly inching its way outward as it coated the stones.

Hariel was crying in full force now, her tears blurring her vision. Her fingers were entwined with Dorothea’s, knuckles turning white. Two soldiers roughly tore them apart from each other.

“Don’t degrade yourselves with these two, make it quick.” Gaunt said, almost as if it was an afterthought. Hariel only struggled harder. She didn't want to die. She just wanted to go back to her bed and play the piano and read her books. Each movement made the shallow cuts on her throat burn. The heat spread rapidly as she heard the now familiar sound of a sword hitting flesh. 

Hariel’s entire body was hot as embers as she heard her sister’s final breaths and she screamed. It was pain, sadness, and rage all mixed into one. The windows in the throne room all cracked and came crashing onto the ground. The man holding her let go and jumped back. The ends of Hariel’s hair lit on fire, soon encompassing her entire body. Hariel continued to scream. And scream. And scream. Fire spread from her body to the rest of the room, burning everything in its path the way only magical fire could. Lord Gaunt looked on passively before turning from the room. He ignored the sounds of his men screaming with the girl as they were burned alive. It was done.

By the time the fire in the throne room was put out, the room was bare. The tapestries that lined the walls were left as ash on the floor. The glass of the windows has been turned to sand when exposed to the intense heat of the fire. The bodies of the soldiers unlucky enough to get trapped in the flames lay still as piles of charred bone on the ground.

The royal family remained untouched, sprawled on the floor with their blood seeping around them. The youngest daughter’s untamed and untrained magick had not been restrained by the safety wards on the castle, and had taken her life with it.

King Tom Marvolo Gaunt was pleased.

Long live the king.

 

.

 

**Author's Note:**

> All ideas/religion things were taken from wikipedia, mashed up, then rebaked by my mind at 2 in the morning. If it is right/wrong i don’t care I really just need to sleep.
> 
> SO instead of updating Fading Illusions I started another fic! Inspired by Anastasia the musical because the soundtrack makes me feel things. Pray that I survive finals week. Peace out. -Gammily


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